


In Which Sherlock Wasn't Asleep

by DaltonG



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:52:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7149752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaltonG/pseuds/DaltonG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted on Tumblr</p>
    </blockquote>





	In Which Sherlock Wasn't Asleep

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr

John unlocks the door, comes in, shuts it quietly. Hangs up his coat. Goes into the kitchen; he only had a couple of pints with Lestrade, but Sherlock really doesn't like the smell, so he uses the mouthwash he keeps stored in cupboard over the microwave and spits into the kitchen sink. Runs the tap to clean up.

He takes off all of his clothes, laying them neatly over the top of his chair. No sense waking Sherlock if he managed to fall asleep.

John slips into the bedroom. Sherlock is facing the wall, his dark curls touseled. Small snores are barely audible. Carefully, John peels back the covers on his side and climbs into bed. He was thinking big spoon, but immediately the lanky body next to him flips around and he is enveloped in four long limbs.

"John," a gravelly voice mumbles against his forehead. "You're finally home."

"Am I now. You were waiting up?"

"Of course." The moonlight coming through the slats of the blinds reveal features still lax with sleep and pillow creases on Sherlock's cheek, which make John's heart clench with fondness.

"Two pints with Lestrade, stayed to watch the end of the match. Boring. I could have been asleep this whole time. You know I can't sleep without you."

"No, terribly inconsiderate of me."

"Indeed." Sherlock's voice is fading back into sleep.

John swivels his body until his back is to Sherlock, who snuffles into his hair and wraps his arms tighter around John's chest. John wriggles a little until they fit perfectly. He takes a moment to marvel that big or little spoon, they always fit together. He feels a bone-deep satisfaction as he drifts off to join Sherlock in Morpheus' realm.


End file.
